Redemption
by pink.chocolaTe.polikjum
Summary: HP/DM SLASH fic. Things end badly between Harry and Draco... but for all the wrong reasons. Can Draco get Harry back? Should he try or accept his mistakes and let Harry go? Rated M for mature. -Warnings inside.-
1. Chapter 1

_(A/N: ____Rated **M** for language and mature content. _

___DM/HP SLASH. _This is my first (maybe last?) attempt at something less fluffy (though, it's going to end fluffy since I can't do angsty very well). I did have it up before but deleted it until I could tweak and edit it. So, if you've seen it before; that's why. The first person perspective just seemed to make this easier to write, oddly enough... dunno why. 

_Warnings: naughty language, asshole Draco (seriously; I wanted to gut him a few times writing this) and a bit of slashy smut. _

_Enjoy? :))_

* * *

"_Get out_."

Those were the last words I said to Harry. And the idiot nodded sadly and left without another word or even a last glance at me. He never could say no to me, I mused bitterly. I wasn't even sure what caused my mouth to say those words in the first place or the situation that lead to them. We had just gotten home after another horrid Ministry affair and I had too much to drink. I'd like to blame my anger and lack of self control on alcohol, but I know it's just not true. I wasn't all that drunk. Sometimes I wished I was, maybe I wouldn't remember everything so vividly. Even when nearly blindly drunk, I never was out of control. I'd curse more and be downright filthy if Harry were around, but I never had done something out of character. I rarely had barriers or inhibitions to begin with, so I wasn't a different person drunk. I was an arsehole sober, I was an arsehole drunk.

_Harry is being snuggly and infuriatingly understanding of my foul mood and I lost it. I push Harry away violently at one point when he embraces me, his warm hands sliding along my sides, making him trip and stumble away. He rolls his lips on a giggle, covering his mouth with a hand, as he rights himself. I don't think he even realizes I shoved him instead of him tripping. Harry's lack of anger seems to spark my fury. I glare darkly when he looks up and giggles sheepishly. He isn't exactly sober either.  
_

_"I'm not even worth your anger now?" I spit, my hands clenching. I feel only slightly better I'm not imagining them around his slim, pale throat. Even in my current state that would have sent me out of the room, away from him, probably shaking in shock and remorse. I feel an irrational urge to hurt him; not kill the git.  
_

_Harry stares at me a moment, blinking owlishly, before he shakes his head once, a goofy smile on his face. "I don't want to be angry at you. I don't _like_ being angry with you. We're over that phase, aren't we?" He smiles and steps closer to me, intending to embrace -and probably grope- me but gets no further than a foot away when my fist connects with his jaw. He only gapes at me as he brings his hand up and cups his injured jaw. "What the fuck?" he murmurs sounding more shocked than angry. We didn't punch and hurt each other anymore, not since school really, since we'd finally figured out that our touches could be more pleasurable. I can't remember the last time either of us laid a hand on the other that didn't end in orgasm or at least very happy thoughts.  
_

_His emerald eyes are full of confusion, not anger like I'd hoped. The bastard doesn't even have the decency to yell after I'd punched him. I'd probably be happier if he'd hit me back. But he doesn't. He just stands there, holding his already swelling, purpling jaw with a hurt and confused look on his face. Part of me wants to just sigh and turn around, go to bed and wish whatever insanity crawled up my arse died in the night. Another part wants to continue this, lash out.  
_

_I glare and push Harry harshly. "I don't want some useless faggot touching me anymore." I don't know how I say that without wincing. I hated when my father had called me that and there I was, throwing it in his face. I know he'd been called the same thing while being pummeled by his oaf of a cousin on numerous occasions. Even without personal history, I spit the word, filling it with scorn and as much disdain as possible. I feel possessed; I just want to lash out and hurt him.  
_

_Harry's eyes darken for a moment as he drops his hand from his face. "Really?" he asks, his voice low. I want to rub my hands together with glee when I see the dark look, but Harry only continues to stand there, still looking hurt and confused. The anger is already fading and I want to scream.  
_

_Harry's lack of reaction only further enrages me and I don't even know why. So I throw various breakable objects, shouting horrible things about Harry's parents- well, the lack thereof- and his Muggle family. Nothing is sacred. I sneer at Harry for taking my cock up his arse, degrading his manhood, mocking his friends and job, anything I can think of. The hateful words just spew from my mouth, I don't even mean most of them. Harry stands there, a guarded expression on his face, watching me rant and rave like a three-year-old. A large, violent three-year-old that throw hexes and verbal barbs just as easily as punches. After a few moments, I stand in the middle of the ruined room, my chest heaving and my face red with my efforts._

_"Are you finished now?" Harry asks calmly, after a moment of quiet. The only sound is my heavy breathing and Harry's toe tapping softly against the tiled floor, as if waiting for my answer.  
_

_I sneer at him and don't answer. I could probably salvage something but I don't. I just cross my arms and glare.  
_

_"Can you tell me what the fuck is going on now?" Harry asks, just as calmly with his hands spread out in front of him. Almost as if he's pleading. It makes my chest hurt and I don't want to look at him any more. I can't. I don't want to see what expression will be on his face. What expression _I_ put there with my irrational, childish and hurtful actions. I have no answers for him and it makes my fists clench.  
_

_I look him over, from his fine leather shoes I'd recently given him to the top of his messy black hair that I could never tame and couldn't keep my hands out of. I completely avoid looking at his face or in his eyes. I sneer and walk away, finally turning my back to Harry. "I'm done. _That's_ what's going on. I'm done with_ _you. Get out."_

* * *

I got owls every day for awhile. I knew they were from Harry so I ignored them.

The owls then came every other day, then weekly. It took almost 3 months before the weekly owls turned into monthly ones. 6 months for them to come maybe every other month and then after a year, Harry had stopped trying. I disgusted myself when I mourned and celebrated that fact simultaneously.

I never read a single one. I always sent the owl away, not even bothering to take the note tied to the bird's foot or _Incendio_ing the unrolled, unread parchments when the bird got vicious and refused to leave the missive undelivered. I couldn't bear to see Harry's hateful words, or worse, words of acceptance, understanding or pleading. I still don't know why I didn't ever read one or owl back. Not even once. I didn't even send a 'fuck off, Potter'. Pride was the only answer I could come up with. Maybe sheer stupidity. Either way, I'd thrown him away. I had no real answer to give Harry, so that didn't help at all. I dimly thought I could blame it on someone slipping me a potion or cursing me, but it didn't feel entirely true and Harry at least deserved to know the truth.

Not that I could even explain the truth. I had looked at Harry that night, felt warmth and love flood me and immediately on the heels of that, a fierce panic sunk heavy claws in, nearly stopping my breath. I wasn't meant to love the damn Gryffindor. I wasn't meant to have the man love _me_. It was only supposed to be the thrill of fucking the Golden Boy or maybe his for fucking the ultimate 'bad boy'. Not... a relationship. A few satisfying weeks had somehow turned into months and then years when I wasn't paying attention. I have no idea what brought the whole thing crashing down on me that night, but crash it did and I felt like tearing into my own skin.

Instead, I tore into Harry. I can honestly admit I regret it now. Not that I can change it.

I spent the rest of that night silently raging at Harry for having the audacity to love me, care about me and protect me -people would still try to send harsh words at me only to be met with Harry's wand or stony face. None would, or could, stand up to him when he got that fierce, determined set to his face and body. It shortly became highly arousing to see him like that. The Boy-Who-Lived was really the only thing that kept me from painful hexes most times we were out together. I never admitted to the thrill that went through me at the thought, only later letting it become something that made my pride prickle and howl with injustice. Harry's later apologies, because the bastard could tell when it started to bother me, only made it worse. I couldn't stand to have him fight for me and I couldn't stand it when he tried, once, to step aside. (Honestly, he couldn't win and it took me awhile to feel like an utter bastard about it.)

Harry kept sneaking glances at me over the course of The Evening, obviously aware -to some extent- of my inner turmoil. People think him oblivious but the man was sharp, especially when it came to something that held his interest (namely me and those that he cared for), and I cursed him for that as well. I plastered on a smile and would nod at him. At one point Harry had snuck us into a dark alcove, pinning me easily against the cool stone wall. After a brief but heated kiss he'd murmured 'I love you, Draco' in my ear, making me shiver deliciously. But then the Unknown Panic Beast in the back of my mind had snapped. That wasn't the first time he said that he loved me, but something was different that time and it made my vision go dark. I shoved Harry away from me without a word, wiped his kiss from my lips with the back of my hand and sneered at him before walking back into the party. I didn't even wait to see if Harry followed me, inwardly too afraid and ashamed to see the confusion or hurt that was sure to be swimming in those emerald eyes. I can admit to being a coward. I can lash out and hurt him, but I couldn't stand to see the aftereffects. I didn't even look at him again until I'd exploded at him later in our flat.

Thankfully -if you ask me- I never bothered to get along with Harry's friends so I didn't have any awkward moments to worry about. It was easy to avoid them, so I did. I'd kept friendly with Pansy and Blaise -it didn't do to not have a source for gossip- but other than my ailing mother, those were the only other people I really spoke to. I tried to blame my small social circle on Harry, but the man had tried to get me out and about numerous times. Even offering to spend time with my old friends from school. Go with me to meet new friends or even stay home while I found friends, in case I wanted to find people with a common interest he didn't share. I had scoffed every time, sometimes snidely pointing out my friends would not want to bother with _him_ and Harry stopped asking. I started to resent that too; he was too good to spend time with my friends? I was pretty sure that's when my Irrational Panic Beast was born; I was convinced Harry didn't think I was worth the effort anymore (apparently years of effort weren't being counted by the Irrational Panic Beast).

I wanted to blame Harry for not trying to bring _his_ friends around, but it took almost 2 years before the Gryffindor had stopped trying to get me and his friends to socialize. I know it was for both our sakes; for his friends' as much as mine. At Harry's last effort, I'd blithely called Hermione a Mudblood brood hound, after she'd excitedly told Harry she was expecting her third child. I thought it spoke of my personal growth that I hadn't mentioned the red-headed oaf seemed to be quickly headed into the same large litter numbers he'd come from, maybe even trying to surpass his parents. Harry didn't agree. His eyes had darkened dangerously at my words and he'd barred me from coming over for almost 2 weeks before I'd broken and mumbled what _might_ be considered an apology. Harry had stopped trying after that. My rational mind reminded me I was being a horrible prat and not even trying at all, making everything worse by being combative and demeaning (I refused to think it was my childish way to keeping all of Harry's attention and time to myself). It made my chest and head hurt to think about, so I figured I'd blame Harry. Or Hermione. Luna was insane, so maybe it was her fault. It certainly wasn't _my_ shortcoming.

Shame and regret weighed me down as I reflected and remembered. I still missed him, of course, but I was smart enough to keep away from Harry. I'd acted deplorably and I wouldn't blame him if he hexed my arse raw on sight. I rarely ever felt bad for how I'd treated him Before, we'd made our peace with our past turmoil but this... I shied away from thinking about it because it made me feel retched. More so when I couldn't explain _why_.

* * *

I sat in one of the smaller parlors in the Manor, having awkward tea with my mother. We'd sat in stony silence for almost half an hour when she threw a folded newspaper at me. I restrained the urge to scold her or point out how rude it was when I caught the photo on the front.

Harry.

With some other wizard. I wasn't prepared for the painful twist I felt in my chest and was frankly shocked by it. I'd barely thought about Harry anymore, or so I told himself. It'd been over a year since I broke it off, but I didn't dwell on it overly. I needn't say that I counted only once a day as 'overly'. I'd even started dating. Well, fucking random men I met at clubs. If they more often than not had black hair or green eyes, rarely both at once, my subconscious was kind enough not to make it obvious. I could hear the Irrational Beast's (when did the panic leave?) snarl of _MINE_ in my mind as I looked at his gorgeous moving image and had to breathe deeply for a moment. Both because I'd stopped for a moment and to keep myself from reaching out and touching the photo-Harry. I slowly looked up at my mother -I could practically hear a tearing noise as I took my eyes off of the photo- and raised a pale eyebrow at her. Of course the only effect it had was to make her scoff daintily. She gave the Malfoy Brow as good as I or my father ever did. "Yes?" I drawled, but I didn't sound as unaffected or aloof as I'd hoped and mentally cursed myself. My mother was a perceptive woman, give her the slightest indication and she could calculate volumes.

She calmly blew on her tea and took a sip before she raised her eyes to look at me. I noted her pale blue eyes held a curious sparkle. "Nothing, dear. I just thought you kept up on social gossip," she said, in a falsely calm tone. "Seems like Harry might be announcing a wedding soon." She calmly sipped her tea again, and I completely missed the smug little smirk she hid behind her teacup at the pained expression that flitted -unknown _and_ completely unwanted- across my face as I looked down quickly. I looked through the article, trying not to seem like I was too interested. Merlin, I hated when she called him _Harry_ and not 'Mr. Potter' like she used to at the beginning of our relationship. It reeked of acceptance and familiarity. Especially now, when we were clearly no longer even speaking. Apparently my attempts at keeping her at a distance by 'missing' tea or dinners with her didn't work. I'd foolishly hoped she wouldn't see Harry as anything but a public icon or a random, distant lover by never allowing the two interact, even though both asked on numerous occasions why it hadn't happened. I really should have known better. My mother had been one of the few people that had been happy with my decision to be with Harry. Surprisingly, it didn't even have anything to do with his status or wealth; she liked that he occasionally had made me happy (when I allowed him to). Infuriating woman.

"I don't see an engagement announcement," I finally muttered, stoically ignoring the relief I felt. I tossed the paper back to the table with a careless flick of my wrist. I wanted to cringe and hex myself at the relief I heard in my voice, knowing my mother surely heard it as well. I tried to tell myself I didn't care if the bastard got married, he could do as he wished and it wasn't my concern. I nearly believed it...

My mother hummed and tilted her head back slightly, looking down her nose at me and pinning me with that unnerving ice-blue gaze again. "No, but just _look_ at that photo," she said, her voice holding a subtle hint of giddiness and something vaguely _gushy_. Like some third year fan-girl. Infuriating woman. She tapped the moving photo with one perfectly manicured fingernail and released a happy sounding sigh. I'm surprised she didn't simper and flutter her eyelashes, truly making her over-dramatics complete. I had to grit my teeth to keep from reacting to the irritating noise. "I don't think we'll be waiting long for one, however." This time she smirked openly, making me grit my teeth. Again.

I had to remind himself not to sneer at my mother. I closed my eyes a moment and wanted to hex myself again when my eyes wouldn't stray from the photo of Harry. He was laughing. I could even see his gorgeous green eyes twinkling, slightly crinkled in the corners, with happiness. Merlin, did I miss the sound of it (and wanted to cringe again when I realized I hadn't heard it for ages even when we were still together). He had a hand firmly -and possessively, I tried not to notice with a sharp pang- around the waist of the taller dark haired wizard. There was no mention of the man's name and I didn't recognize him. It was obvious they were close, as the man's smiling face was partially buried in Harry's neck, his lips close to his ear in an obvious attempt to whisper something. Whether an attempt to keep an intimate uttering private or a bid to be heard in a crowd I didn't know, and frankly I didn't care. Another painful pang ripped through me when I knew what that man was smelling: musky, sweet spice that was essentially _Harry_. I barely restrained the groan as I tortured myself with the photo. Why did I care? Harry was no longer mine. I'd tired of him and threw him away like an old broom. A well-used old broom. I looked up and saw my mother looking at me, a calculating look on her face before she'd schooled her features into a mask of polite boredom.

"What about you, my darling Draco? Any new romantic interests?" she asks, gracefully crossing a leg over the other and angling her legs down. She rearranged her robes before giving me her full attention. A lie wasn't going to work. I nearly sighed with annoyance and resignation.

I briefly considered telling her about the 'romantic interest' I'd shagged against a wall in the back of a club not even two nights ago but just merely shook my head once and gave her a bland smile. "No, mother. Not as of yet." I sipped my tea and prayed to all the Gods that my mother would lose her interest in my personal life and I could finally leave. When she sighed and put down her tea cup, I wanted to pull my hair in frustration. Bugger.

"Draco," she started softly. "You've had time to recover, move on. You need to settle down." She gave me a piercing look that made me want to squirm like a child, making me awkwardly aware that maybe she _did_ know what I was getting up to these days. Pansy was going to pay, I swore. There was no other way for my mother to know such things. I was happily imagining turning Pansy's hair Gryffindor red or making all her body hair grow to obscene lengths. Permanently.

"I don't need to recover, mother. If you remember, _I_ threw _him_ out. And I don't wish to settle down yet. I'm still young yet," I said blithely.

I couldn't help but gape when my mother snorted inelegantly, raised her chin and waved a dismissive hand at me. "_Please_, Draco," she said, even rolling her eyes rudely. "You ran away from that man, scared. You aren't getting any younger, Dragon," she chided and raised a pale eyebrow at me. I hated that endearment only because I was powerless against it; I could never resist my mother, especially when she clearly loved me and had my best interest at heart. I resisted gritting my teeth again, expecting her 'helpful' assistance. "I won't give you the speech your father did and tell you to marry a witch and produce an heir, but... " she paused and I nearly sat forward. I didn't think she needed to gather her words, my mother was rarely at a loss for them. "Draco, you need to find someone and be happy. I shan't place limitations or stipulations on who that is, just that you do it. I had hoped Harry would be that someone, but frankly, you didn't deserve him." She picked up her tea and took another dainty sip, tactfully ignoring my stunned silence. "It's probably for the best you ended things when you did; you were hurting that poor man."

How dare she! I _did_ deserve him. Well, alright... maybe not, but I had _wanted_ him and a Malfoy gets what he wants. I felt anger flush my face to be quickly replaced with hot guilt as I slowly realized how true her words were. I proved quite well how much I hadn't deserved him. I never could understand how Harry was so receptive and willing to open his heart to me, knowing the way most of his past relationships ended. Whether 'family' or romantic entanglements, they hadn't ended well and I was just another terrible example of people that left a gaping hole in his heart and (let's be dramatic here) soul. If I wasn't so selfish, I should've been happy Harry was able to find someone that made him smile like that. Instead, I felt the Irrational Beast growl that _my_ Harry was off some where with some one else. I've never did claim I wasn't a bastard. Or rational.

I'm sure I resembled a guppy for a long moment before I shut my mouth with a sharp '_clack_' and glared at my mother. It was only years of training and deep rooted respect that held my tongue and temper. Instead of a childish tantrum, I carefully set down my teacup and left the room without a backward glance. I didn't need to turn around to see my mother's expression; an embarrassing mix of triumph and pity. I stalked to my rooms and as soon as my door shut, and I could feel the privacy wards snap and sizzle into place, I screamed and threw the most expensive thing I could find that would break.

A priceless vase, it turns out. I shrugged carelessly; it was old and ugly anyway.

I quickly turned and found a jade dragon; a gift from Harry, he gave it to me with a sheepish smile on our first anniversary. I adored it, not that I ever told him. It quickly joined the vase against the wall to shatter and sprinkle onto the floor. Triumph flared briefly before I was overcome with a stab of grief. I threw myself on the ground near the broken green pieces. I was sweeping the pieces into a small pile, muttering "Harry, I'm so sorry" as I tried to find them all, unaware of the many cuts I gave myself in the process. It didn't even register I was weeping as I swept my wand over the pieces, furiously muttering a repairing charm. I stared at the repaired dragon in my palm, sniffling pathetically, and closed my eyes in misery. There was a small chunk missing from one delicate wing; hardly noticeable really, but it stood out starkly me. Mocking me. No matter how many _Accio_s I performed, I couldn't retrieve the missing piece. I wanted to scream in frustration at how appropriate it seemed. The broken dragon; irreparable. My relationship with Harry; irreparable. It was tragically poetic.

I was a fool, a cruel stupid fool. I wasn't over Harry, and probably never would be. My breath hitched, my eyes still riveted to the small green dragon as I gently turned it in my palm, and wondered if I could ever think of a way to win him back. I winced; I'd have to grovel and probably say a lot of horribly true and painful emotional things. Words and thoughts I should have said a over a year ago. And even then, there was no guarantee that Harry wouldn't just turn and walk away from me. I honestly wouldn't be able to blame him. Even so, I knew he deserved an apology at the very least.

Was Harry worth it?

I eyed the jade dragon and knew the answer. Yes; he was.

The true question; was I? I didn't know, and I feared the answer. I knew I wanted to be, but I didn't know if it would be enough.

Would he even see me or listen to a word I had to say? I honestly wouldn't blame the man if he hexed me the moment he laid his beautiful emerald eyes on me. I shivered lightly at the memory of those green eyes gazing at me. As breathtaking as they were sparkling with happiness, I always preferred them hazy and dark with desire.

Did I dare to try to win Harry back from another man? Of course; it wasn't even worth asking, really. I am a Malfoy and nothing stopped me from attaining a goal once I've set one. Not even a stubborn, taken Gryffindor would get in my way.

Would I succeed?

I didn't know and feared the answer almost as much.

* * *

I tell myself I _let_ another year go by, but it was more accurate to say that a year had slipped by as I worked on myself. In my resolve to get Harry back, I knew I had to change... or at least sort myself out and become able to keep rational thought. Harry deserved it but so did I. I never really allowed myself much self reflection; I think I always feared what I'd find.

It took awhile to realize that if Harry had been able to see something worthwhile, it was there. I just had to find it and cultivate it. Even if I never succeeded in my goal of winning Harry back, it would certainly help with any future relationships. I tried not to think negatively, but I was trying to be realistic.

Pansy was quite happy to act as my pseudo-mind healer -since I refused to see a proper one; I wasn't _that_ fucked up- and help me, nearly drooling over the gossip worthy information I was going to tell her. I resisted for a while, but she had promised nothing would ever leave her confidence. I know she has kept my secrets before but even still... I nearly made her take a Wizard's Oath. I realized I needed to show her more trust than that. Plus, she had bitched me out for nearly a solid hour, offended and hurt. After about a week, I finally got over myself and we got to the serious things. Things that made me wake in the middle of the night shaking, bathed in cold sweat. Mostly, I awoke feeling shame and guilt; groaning and laying in bed for hours after, mired in thought.

After that, I found a relative peace and even some insight. I can't remember the Muggle mumbo jumbo technical terms but it boiled down to me lashing out, like a spoiled sodding child. My lack, for a better term, of people skills and early affection caused me to self-destruct and mistrust loving relationships. (It made sense, I hated to admit it. I was loved as a child but rarely hugged or touched. Malfoys didn't _do_ such things. I tried, mostly jokingly, blaming my mother but Pansy wouldn't allow it. Cow.) I lashed out, usually with anger, most often when Harry was affectionate or loving. I nearly punched him the first time he had said he loved me. Thankfully I didn't, as it would have ruined the mood being as I was still inside him at the time. I slid out of bed as soon as he fell asleep and disappeared for a week. I truly regret that and found myself wondering what made the man stay with me after that.

Naturally, after each revelation Pansy would sooth me, congratulate me on my 'growth' and then call me a plethora of creative names. Apparently, I was too much of a 'bastard', a 'wanker' or an 'arse' and needed something more creative to describe my actions or personality. I think the tamest -lamest?- was when she called me a 'great, flopping dung bag'. I do believe she was feeling ill that day, but I still like to mock her for the utter lack of creativity of that one. I do adore the woman but she tried my patience more than once; I nearly slammed the door in her face numerous times. If it wasn't for the fact that she was actually helping, I probably would have set the wards against her with painful results.

It took so sodding _long_. There wasn't a spell or a potion that would help. Just time and retched, soul sucking, talking and even then she didn't have any miraculous answers. Most often, it was immensely helpful to just talk to her, get things out of my mind and in the open. When I finally got around to telling her about my last night with Harry, her brows rose nearly to her hairline and she called me every foul name she knew -which were many and rather creative, as well. After her last muttered curse, she gave me a level look. I knew her well enough to know she wanted to snarl or scowl at me -possibly hit or hex me- but she was too vein for it. She refused to wrinkle herself further, not on my account.

"I'd always wondered what finally made him leave. Well, darling, color me surprised it was _you,_" she said in a dry, sarcastic tone. I spent a few moments sputtering, as the realization that she was defending Harry dawned on me, before she laughed merrily and slapped at my arm sharply before she grew sober once more. "I do regret not taking the time to get to know him better, though." Her face was pensive and a bit regretful. Apparently, _Harry_ was worth facial movement and subsequent wrinkles. "By the time I realized you felt something for the git, you never came around anymore." She raised on eyebrow and lifted her chin, ever-so-slightly looking down her nose at me. "Ignored my owls and floo calls, as well, you complete arse."

I sat dumbfounded for a solid minute. "I never thought you'd have any inclination to sit down to have tea." I felt like a bastard, of course, for how many times I'd told Harry the opposite being true. It honestly hadn't occurred to me she would have wanted to. Pansy was glaring at me openly now.

"Of course I would. He's the bloody Savior of the Wizarding world. Why _wouldn't_ I?" she asked huffily and flicked her hair over her shoulder. "Not to mention it was clear he was important to you." Her glare softened slightly but it was more of a penetrating stare now. "I have the distinct feeling it wasn't because of _him_ we never sat down together, either." I'd be blind to miss the shrewd look.

I proudly refused to flinch and changed the subject, unwilling to get into _that_ subject with her at the moment. Thankfully, she let it drop, knowing full well my lack of answer was indeed an answer in the positive, and we continued onto many other things.

She produced the well-known Muggle book from her huge handbag at this point, thumbing through it and declaring with authority that I have Mental Issues for the nth time. I could almost see the capitalized letter with the emphases she placed on the words. It was practically a ritual by now. She raised the book, about something called psychology, I noticed with a raised brow. I'd seen her look in it before but never noticed the title. I snorted a laugh; of _course_ I have mental issues. I thought back to The Evening and cringe; no sane person behaved in such a manner, especially towards someone they loved. So, I nodded along and we continued our talks, usually over tea, and she'd occasionally flip through the book and respond with something that sounded like gibberish until she translated it into 'pig-headed, bloody arsehole' for me to understand. Honestly, I spoke three languages fluently, could read and write Latin and Muggle psychology 'speak' baffled me most times. It was rather embarrassing and befuddling.

My zeal to win back Harry had cooled. Not for lack of desire, but because I started to feel uneasy when I thought of trying to ruin whatever was making him happy. It was a rather strange thing to feel and it took a weeks, and Pansy's helpful Muggle book, to figure out my motivations. My wishes for his happiness outweighing my own wishes. It made me feel rather mature. I was smug for a moment but it deflated quickly. Whenever I spied the few photos of him recently, the desire to leave him be overrode the desire to have him again. An annoying inner voice reminded me I'd lost my chance, I wasn't good enough or deserving of the happiness I knew I would have found with Harry. Or if I allowed it this time, should the chance be granted. It was hard to ignore that voice; it sounded too much like my mother.

It wasn't easy but I was able to look in the mirror and make my face portray various emotions. It was almost embarrassing. People were able to smile and make any other sort of face without even thinking about it and I had to practice. I had years of 'training' to over-come. I had only ever let Harry see such things before and even then it was only in the bedroom -or, more accurately, wherever we happened to be involved in vigorous activities at the time.

Pansy was only slightly helpful with this endeavor but she'd scoffed and called me a callous twat when I tried to show concern for her troubles. I admit my face looked more like I was constipated, but I promised her it was my best effort. I didn't have a mirror or any time to practice, but I thought I nearly had it.

Oh well. Maybe it's the thought that counts for this as well?


	2. Chapter 2

_(A/N: Still with me? Heh. _

_Rated **M** for mature; mature content and language. It gets quite a bit less depressing from here... _

_Warnings: possibly stupid Harry and slashy smut. Enjoy!:))_

* * *

I smoothed the fine fabric of my robes, a nervous habit from when I was a child I hadn't been able to break myself of. I was headed to another Ministry function. Some charitable thing. I had little hope I would see Harry there, but it didn't hurt to be prepared. Just in case. I gave myself a long assessing look, practiced a reasonably happy smile and Apparated straight into the large hall.

I carefully looked around the large crowd and breathed a sigh of relief when I didn't spot a familiar head of messy black hair. I did want to see him, looked forward to it even, but I wasn't prepared to yet. Harry hated coming to Ministry functions and used to need to be prodded and/or bribed -usually with sexual favors or Muggle candy. It was only slightly easier when the functions were for charitable causes. If he knew the charity helped children, he only needed to be asked once. I smiled to myself; there was really nothing Harry wouldn't do if he thought he could help a child in need. Even when it annoyed me, I adored that about him.

I wandered the crowd, shaking hands occasionally and nodding my head in greeting. Most people were polite to me, especially since I opened the family vaults more often now. I firmly keep away from alcohol at these functions these days. So, instead of a finely aged firewhiskey or some exotic Muggle liquor, I sipped idly at some horrid, overly sweet purple punch concoction. I couldn't even figure out the flavor but it was kept chilled so it was palatable in very small sips. I nearly dropped my punch cup when someone gently tapped my elbow and spoke quietly behind me.

"Draco?"

Oh Merlin. I knew that voice. I closed my eyes briefly, opening them again slowly before turning with careful, practice casualness. I couldn't, however, stop the smile that grew on my face. "Harry."

He blinked at me, surprise flickering across his face for a moment before he stepped back and nodded, clearing his throat. "Uhm." I could tell he wanted to ask why I was there, but he'd long ago been able to control such urges, especially since it would be considered rude. "How are you?" he asked instead. His fingers were gripping his own cup tightly and I wondered how long it would take before the glass cracked or shattered in his hand. I resisted the urge to run a finger over the tense fingers. I knew my touch would be unwelcome and most likely would make the tenseness worse.

I paused and pursed my lips in thought. Such an innocent question, really, but I was considering it as more than just polite conversation. "Well enough, I suppose."

Again, surprise flickered in his eyes and he coughed awkwardly into a tightly curled fist, obviously feeling uncomfortable. He was saved from having to speak again when a man stepped up and touched his elbow gently. I barely kept the sneer off my face when I recognized him as the man Harry had been photographed with -numerous times by now. He was attractive enough and I mentally congratulated myself for abandoning my plans to win Harry back; this man would be hard competition, especially if he already had Harry's heart. It hurt my Malfoy pride a bit to admit defeat, but I let it. Where the fuck had that pride gotten me in the past? No where. Alone.

"Harry, hey. There you are." The man sounded -and looked- relieved to see Harry. I wondered briefly if it was because he didn't like to be away from his presence, jealousy because Harry was standing with me or if he didn't know anyone else at the function and required a known variable. Not that I cared either way. He had a strange accent I couldn't place and only spent a moment trying to figure it out. His short, dark hair was in soft waves, brushed casually over to one side to drop handsomely into his eyes at odd moments. I tried not to notice the dark blue eyes; quite a nice color really. The man turned towards me, an uncertain smile twitching on his lips. Apparently I wasn't as successful at keeping the sneer off my face after all. "Oh, er... hi," he said and his right hand twitched up. I glared, wondering why a stranger would be so moved to hex me. I felt myself pale when I realized he might know who I am and what I've done. I no longer glared and stood taller, awaiting the hex -or hateful words- I would be getting. I deserved them.

"Hello," I nodded, stiffly but politely.

Harry seemed to wake from some sort of daze, his shoulders twitched and he snapped his head in a sharp back and forth motion before he raised a hand towards me. "Ryan, this is Draco Malfoy." His eyes darted to me briefly, his hand made a small wave towards the other man. "Draco, this is Ryan Walker."

Ryan's hand came up again and I realized he'd been attempting to shake my hand earlier, not hex me. "Hello," he repeated with slightly more confidence, his hand waiting for a shake. I blinked at it before mine rose and clasped his for a moment. "Nice to meet you." He added and I was stunned. I looked over at Harry and was even more surprised to see a small smile on his face as he watched the exchange. I didn't understand. Did Harry not tell this man about our past? By Ryan's pleasant greeting, he couldn't have. I didn't know what to think. Part of me was grateful and another was sad he felt the need to cut me from his past.

I mumbled a similar greeting and we all just stood there for long moments in an awkward silence. Ryan was the first to break it, bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet. I only now noticed he wasn't wearing robes but a finely tailored Muggle suit instead. The cut was stylish and well suited to his tall build, I noticed with a silent grumble. The bastard was fit.

"So, I'm going to get a drink," Ryan said. I looked pointedly at the cup in his hand. He chuckled and grinned. "I meant from the bar. This needs something," he turned and placed a hand on Harry's shoulder. The touch wasn't at all intimate but I didn't notice, I was too busy seething inside. "Did you need something, too?" He looked down at Harry's cup with a raised eyebrow. I was able to place his accent and barely resisted the urge to laugh. Harry Potter had brought an American to a Ministry function. I wondered if the man was a Muggle, guessing by his lost expression and what he was wearing. Harry shook his head and Ryan gave me a brief questioning glance that I shook my head to. He wandered away, muttering directions to himself on how to get to the small bar.

I let my gaze following him, unaware of the glare I was sending to the man's back until I heard Harry's amused snort. "Yes?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

He shook his head again and looked pointedly away.

I sipped my punch, glancing at Harry over the rim of my cup. He looked fantastic, as usual. His whole posture was relaxed but confident as he looked away from me. I wasn't surprised he hadn't tamed that mess of hair, he always claimed it was impossible. Any attempts were thwarted when the locks magically re-adjusted, returning to it's previous state. I hadn't believed him until I tried every potion and charm on the mess myself. I watched as each attempt either failed or succeeded -only until the next morning, when it would be back to it's original state. He'd also forgone wearing robes, wearing something I think was a Muggle tuxedo on his lithe frame. I was forcefully reminded of the last time I'd seen him and my throat closed uncomfortably. I swallowed a few times and cursed mentally when his attention was riveted to me. His eyes were soft and I couldn't understand why. I really thought he would leave or he hex me. At least punching me. Honestly, I knew I would take any of it and not raise a hand to my own defense, not even in public. But he just stood there calmly, as if aware I was struggling with the words trying to come out. Finally, they did. "I'm sorry, Harry." I was proud the words carried the sincerity I truly felt. I didn't shout it from the rooftops but I suppose the quietly spoken words came off just as powerfully. Harry always was very forgiving...

He smiled a little and stepped closer to me, but the grip on his cup seemed to get tighter -the knuckles white. "I know." His head lowered slightly as his eyes dropped to his hand and he appeared to make a conscious effort to loosen his grip, giving me a sheepish smile from under his fringe. I normally would have cursed the bastard for giving me such a look as it always made my heart pound faster with _something_ and desire. I can handle desire... but I manage to just give a small smile in return, looking away as I sipped my drink.

I made the mistake of looking back at Harry to find him looking at me intently, his green eyes shuttered and distant. I hurriedly took another sip of my drink, trying not to gag at the sweetness. I mulled over Harry's words. Did he mean that as his own way of saying he forgave me? Probably not... thankfully, my torturous thoughts stop when Harry looks up at me fully this time. I can't think of a single thing to say to him and I want to groan with frustration.

"I'm not saying I forgive you, you know," Harry said quietly, his finger tips nearly white as he strangled his glass again. I nod dumbly. Of course I hadn't really expected such a thing. Harry wasn't always so cautious with his heart but it would take a miracle after I'd abused it so thoroughly and carelessly. "Why di-" he cuts himself off and I see him sigh and pinch the bridge of his nose for a moment. His eyes flickering around the room briefly. I nearly growl when I realize he's looking for Ryan; probably loathing the time spent alone with me and wishing desperately for rescue. "So, what brings you here?" he asked instead, obviously changing his question again.

"I support many causes. This is one of them," I said as I swept my hand around the room. I wanted to sigh when Harry's eyes widen with surprise. I honestly couldn't blame the man; in the past I'd bitched, whined and complained over every Galleon he'd ever donated and rarely offered my own. "I know," I said softly, lowering my eyes for a moment with true embarrassment, "but it just felt like the right thing to do."

Harry's lips roll and purse in thought. Knowing him as I do, I also know he's fighting to keep something from blurting out of his mouth as well. I don't know whether to be relieved or not that he's censoring himself at the moment. I hardly think I want to hear the thought that popped in his head but I nearly clench with sadness since Harry had rarely censored himself around me in the past. I was one of the rare few that got the complete, honest truth from the man. I hadn't realized it was such a gift at the time. I vaguely wondered if Ryan got such liberties. "I see," he finally said. "That's very... kind of you. They need all the help they can get."

I can only nod. I do know they need every Sickle, Knut and Galleon they can get from private donations since the orphanage doesn't get anything from the Ministry because of some political loophole and slick politicians. Harry had stormed down there and demanded a meeting with the Minister when he'd found that out a few years ago but it hadn't helped at all. It was one of the few things he was willing to put his name behind, as well. "Yes," I said inanely, fighting a wince. Conversation had never been this awkward with Harry before.

A small, polite smile appeared on Harry's face before he looked away and took a long sip of his drink. "I was starting to think you'd buggered off to a pub," he said a moment later, smiling wider -brighter. I try to ignore the fluttering in my belly at the smile; it wasn't for me so I looked away, but when I turned I scowled slightly when I saw Ryan returning to Harry's side. Bugger.

"No," Ryan laughed and stood close to Harry. "I just got a little lost," he admitted with a sheepish grin, his hand absently rubbing the back of his neck. It was adorably sheepish and I wanted to claw his sparkly blue eyes out like some hormonal witch in a bad daytime drama. "This place is huge," he said looking around with slightly wide eyes.

Harry laughed softly and I nearly wept. I hadn't heard that sound in... too long. "I know, but we only have to stay for another 20 minutes after the speeches, alright?"

"Yeah, cool," Ryan said, giving Harry a brief warm smile before continuing his perusal of the massive ball room. His eyes pause on the floating candles and he gaped a bit, snapping his mouth closed again when he caught himself. "That is _so_ cool, I don't think I'll ever get used to that," he said quietly, leaning towards Harry a bit.

I felt no pleasure at all to realize my guess of Ryan being a Muggle was correct. I found myself feeling a curious mix of anger and sadness. To think that Harry had to look to the Muggle world for companionship... "Excuse me?" I asked, looking at Ryan. "Get used to what?"

"Magic," Ryan said simply, shrugging his shoulders. I nearly gape when the man has the audacity to wink at me before leaning in closer and lowering his voice so that only I can hear him. "Muggles, we use our hands to fight. And I know all about _you_, you fucker." I clench my teeth tightly when he leaned back and gave a me the briefest look of loathing before his face went impassive again. My eyes flick to Harry and scowl when his attention was back onto his cup. The prat had no idea his... _whatever_ just verbally assaulted me.

Harry's eyes narrowed slightly at the interaction -having seen it but made no indication- before he rolled them in slightly annoyance. He'd honestly been expecting Ryan to say something at some point to Draco and it appeared his waiting was over. He'd made no secret of his and Draco's past and Ryan had nearly went out on a search for the blonde with an arsenal of Muggle weapons. Contrary to what Draco -or _any_one reading any newspaper recently- thought he and Ryan were only friends. Ryan was straight and engaged to a lovely young witch; but it was quite amusing to see Draco seething with jealous anger.

"Did you remember my notes?" Harry asked, somehow missing or just ignoring the thick tension between the two of us. I continued to glare as Ryan looked up, appearing to be fascinated with the ceiling.

"Yeap," Ryan said and dug around the inner pocket of his jacket for a moment before producing a stack of small white, lined cards with a flourish. "I even numbered them, just in case," he added, apparently aware of Harry's nerves in public speaking. He'd seen Harry drop his notes enough times.

Harry chuckled, taking the cards and sliding them into his own pocket and laid a hand on Ryan's arm. Ryan didn't even flinch, well aware of and used to Harry's tactile personality and probably playing along to further annoy and incite me, not that I knew that. I just saw the git lean in close. "Thanks."

Ryan winked and then wrapped an arm around Harry's shoulders, giving him a quick squeeze. He caught the blonde bastard glaring with jealousy, the emotion turning his normally pale grey eyes a fiery silver. It almost made him attractive, if you could ignore what a complete pile of shit the guy was. He didn't understand what Harry ever saw in him. "Anytime," he said with a grin. He thought about laying a noisy, obnoxious kiss on his cheek -or his lips if he really wanted to overact his part- but decided against it. He knew Harry would only find it amusing but he didn't want to risk Harry laughing or working up the asshole blonde enough to hex him. He looked the type to do that in public.

I watched the entire exchange with a heavy heart, my stomach churning. I wasn't blind, I clearly saw Ryan restrain himself from kissing Harry. It hurt a lot more than I expected it to. "What are you speaking about?" I ask, turning to Harry and trying my damnedest to ignore Ryan. I knew of Harry's dislike -verging on outright hatred or pathological phobia- of crows and public speaking and was genuinely interested what had motivated him enough to give a speech.

Harry raised his cards and his cheeks went a bit pink. "I'm trying to get the Ministry to take more responsibility for magical orphans so... I'm," he paused and cleared his throat, giving a grateful smile to Ryan when a comforting arm went around him. "I'm talking about what happened to me. If the Ministry had given a damn, I mightn't have had... what happened, happen." I knew there were few laws, even fewer when Harry was a baby, that would've protected him. The laws weren't important enough and they weren't followed through. It was the only explaination how they let some old codger, with no guardianship leverage whatsoever, have the final say in a child's well-fare. It was deplorable and I hoped it could be fixed. I hadn't realized how easy it was for wizarding children to be lost or forgotten like Harry was.

I nod slowly, understanding. Harry didn't talk about his childhood much but I'd been appalled by the little he did share. I still couldn't believe he'd been failed so thoroughly. Not just as Harry Potter, but as any other magical child left with no where to go. It honestly was one of the motivations for donating. No child, magical or Muggle, should be treated in such a way. I agreed whole-heartedly in there being better laws, monitoring and organizations in place so something like that didn't happen to another child again. "I see," I finally say. I'm mostly trying not to move closer, smack Ryan's arm off and enfold Harry in my own arms. "That's very brave of you."

Harry shrugged, a bit self consciously. "If it'll help, it's worth the embarrassment."

Ryan answered before I could. "Why would you be embarrassed? You were just a kid. _They_ are the ones that should be embarrassed. You don't really expect people to think any different," he said, it wasn't exactly a question though. It was more statement.

I try not to sneer at the man but agree with him completely. "Exactly, Harry," I say, ignoring a glare from Ryan.

"It's fucking mortifying," Harry whispered hoarsely, looking between me and Ryan with wide eyes. "I... thanks for the encouragement." I can't tell who he's talking to since he addressed his cup but I'm self-delusional enough to think he's speaking to me.

It's obvious he's censoring himself again and I can't help it; I step closer and lay a hand on his arm. Only to comfort. I try to ignore the hateful glare being directed at me by Ryan and succeed fairly well. He's really not as menacing as he thinks; he's never met my aunt Bella. I survived her hateful looks, and comparatively speaking, he was akin to a pouting puppy.

* * *

I plunged my cock down his throat, grunting softly. Normally I'd be a bit embarrassed to make such a sound, but Harry always could bring out the more baser reactions from me. I groaned when he swallowed, tightening his throat around me with torturous pressure and motion, and somehow still managed to work his tongue on the sensitive underside. Gods, he was _made_ to suck my cock, not wave a wand around chasing after Dark Wizards. I didn't realize I'd spoken that aloud until I heard -and felt- his muffled laughter. It shot straight through my cock and made my arsehole twitch and spasm, sending heat through me. "Harry," I groaned. I watched as his eyes fluttered closed, enjoying on every level when he hummed a pleasured moan.

Looking down, I moaned lewdly, looking into amused, lust filled green eyes. Merlin, he was perfect.

He didn't stop when I tried to pull away. Instead, his hands came up behind my thighs to keep me in place, his fingertips nearly bruising in their tight grip, and hollowed his cheeks as he fucking hummed again. I didn't try to be noble anymore, I didn't even try to restrain myself; I just mentally sighed and let go. I berated myself for my weakness even as I fucked his face. Really, I wasn't strong enough to resist Harry; I never was. It was one of the things that scared me so much before. Now; I reveled in it. It took time and a lot of soul searching -and that cow Pansy- to realize it wasn't a weakness at all. I moaned lowly when Harry pulled back and swirled his tongue around my dripping length, my eyes rolling back in my head. I could see him settling himself and relaxing his jaw and withheld no more; if he wanted it, I could give it to him. I let any restraint fall away and proceeded to thrust in and out of his willing, warm, wonderfully wet mouth. Vaguely, in my lust addled mind, I remembered he used to love this. He'd be hoarse for hours and it never failed to make me harder than steel and pound him mercilessly until I couldn't move anymore. Which he also loved. I grabbed a handful of smooth black hair and he fucking hummed a moan again, the vibrations making me shudder violently, his hand sneaking into his own pants. I had to look away or I'd come, foolishly hoping to prolong the inevitable a bit longer.

I didn't plan on this happening, never imagining that it could've. I'd only meant to say good-bye before I left, terrified I'd never again have the chance to give him a proper 'good-bye', especially since I'd cocked up the last one so badly. I'd managed to get him away from the American and pulled him into a deserted alcove. "I just... that was a very moving speech," I murmured, feeling like an arse. Very glib. I'd roll my eyes if I didn't know Harry would assume I was directing the movement at him and not myself. At random intervals in his speech, I wanted to cry and rage. I didn't of course, but I let any feelings show on my face whenever Harry looked at me as he spoke. Which was often. I mentally preened at each glance, reveling in it.

"Thanks," Harry said softly and tried not to shift awkwardly. He hadn't expected to feel so much when he saw Draco. He had hoped only anger and resentment would surface. They _were_ there but it was embarrassing how quickly they'd dissipated after talking with the blonde. Draco _apologized_, which hadn't ever happened before. It didn't magically erased all the pain and heartache; but it was sincere and heartfelt, which nearly had him throwing himself at the blonde. He'd managed to hold it together, though. Just barely. It was damned hard; the rest of the evening Draco didn't snark, gripe or sneer at anyone. Not even Ryan. He adored his friend but the git deserved it after the subtle jabs and comments he made about Draco -which, he could admit, were also deserved- nearly the entire evening, especially when Draco was close enough to hear.

It was so surreal. In less than an hour, nearly two years of heartache and pain lifted away and he felt weak and stupid. What kind of person was he to still want a bastard like Draco? Sure, Draco had appeared to have changed... a bit. He still was quick witted and woefully snobbish, but it was tempered with hints of compassion and startlingly humane insight. Every time he looked at Harry, his pale grey eyes were soft and warm. He nearly ran over and jumped the blonde a few times as he stuttered and stammered through his speech, the emotion on his pale face and his bright grey eyes nearly enough to steal his breath away. It wasn't _fair_. It was fucking _frustrating_; he wanted to hate Draco and never see his pale, gorgeous face again and instead he was dreading the end of the evening and wishing he was brave enough to approach him.

I nodded and contented myself in just looking at Harry, enjoying the chance to just... look. I don't know when I'd ever see him again and I didn't want the last memory of him to be that terrible evening when I ruined everything good in my life. Before I could tear myself away and say my good-byes, Harry was stepping closer. I was close enough to see the pale gold flecks in his green eyes and feel the tickle of his wild hair against my chin and nose.

"Did you mean it?" Harry murmured, staring at me intently. I knew what he mean but stayed quiet, affecting a confused expression. "When you said... when you said you were sorry?" he whispered.

I nodded slowly. "I sincerely do. I was... there aren't enough words to convey how sorry I am for how terribly I acted. How terribly I treated you. I owe you so much more than an apology, but it's all I can do. I can't take back the horrible things I said. I can't take back the times I refused to be a decent person..." I paused, chewing my lip. I was nervous and terrified. I had so much to say but I didn't know if I'd be given the chance to. Honestly, I wasn't sure I could even convey how sorry I was, how terrible I felt. I had to try though. "I was scared, Harry. It's the worst excuse but it's true. I... we..." I blew out a breath and looked up, keenly aware Harry was stepping back again.

"Scared of what?" Harry asked, his voice soft with confusion and a bit of wonder. I looked at him and I was sure he already had some idea what the answer was.

I tried not to hesitate but I did. Harry really deserved the truth, even if he walked away and I never saw him again. "You," I said and shrugged helplessly. "Love. I wasn't... good enough for either," I admitted. Between my mother and Pansy, I saw that even a Malfoy had to earn some things in life. I only regret I hadn't learned such things _before_ I struck out and hurt Harry. I blinked when he was pressed against my chest, the move quick and nearly instantaneous.

"You are, though," Harry muttered before looking up at me. I swallowed heavily at the emotions swirling through his gorgeous green eyes. I deserved the pain and hesitation but not the adoration. It almost hurt to know he still cared for me; I didn't deserve it. "Didn't you think _I_ was scared? Didn't you think _I_ didn't think myself worthy of love? Affection?"

I blinked again. It hadn't ever occurred to me. "No, I never thought so. You... you're so brave and fucking amazing, Harry," I whispered before clearing my throat. "I didn't think you would be scared because you deserve love, affection... _every_thing." I watched as Harry's eyes fluttered closed and he swallowed thickly. I tentatively brought an arm up, loosely so he could remove it if desired, and wrapped it around his waist. I nearly forgotten how perfectly he fit against me. "I should have realized you would think differently, idiot Gryffindor," I murmured. I probably shouldn't say such things but he chuckled wetly at the old, affectionate nickname and I sighed with relief. "I'm so sorry," I repeated, dipping my head slightly to rest my lips against the top of his head. I tried not to inhale but it was hard. He always smelled so good. Harry's hands fisted in my robes as his forehead rested against my chest.

"I want to hate you," Harry whispered brokenly. It hurt something in me to hear that tone and I wrapped my other arm around him, pulling him a bit tighter against me. He didn't struggle, didn't fight me or step away.

I nodded a bit. "You should," I said quietly. I couldn't articulate how I felt, though, knowing he didn't hate me, even if he wanted to. A sick sort of pleasure went through me. It was true, though, he _should_ hate me. I just stood quietly, letting him cling to me. It was horribly wonderful. I shushed him quietly, running my hands over his back in slow circles and random patterns, when he made a choked sound and I hoped he wasn't crying. I could never handle it when he cried; it always tore at me, usually because I was the reason for the tears. He pulled back and I let him. His eyes were shiny but there weren't tears. I hated myself for thinking it but I couldn't fool myself with this moment; Harry wasn't mine. "Won't Ryan be upset you're missing?" I reluctantly asked, trying not to sneer or spit out his name. As annoying as the man was, I couldn't hate him too much. He'd made Harry smile.

"No," Harry said and for some reason his eyes were nearly twinkling with mischief. "We're just friends."

I gaped stupidly, I know I did. Harry chuckled softly and I couldn't find it in myself to be mad. I don't know how I could forget he could be quite the Slytherin at times. "And you let me think otherwise," I finally muttered, amusement more than annoyance in my voice. He shrugged cutely and burrowed back into my chest, fitting himself neatly under my chin.

"I guess I figured you deserved it."

I had nothing to say to that, since he spoke the truth, again, so I just went back to holding him quietly. I didn't know how long it would take him to regain his senses and pull away, so I was going to enjoy the moment for as long as I could. I didn't realize I was speaking softly, telling Harry about the past year, until he'd pulled away again. I blinked when he stared intently at me and nearly fell over with shock when he grabbed the back of my neck and yanked me into a heated kiss. I moaned softly into his mouth, I couldn't help it. It was like the last 2 years hadn't happened and my body reacted to Harry as it always did; with thrilling heat and enthusiasm.

"Did you really do all that?" Harry asked breathlessly when he pulled away. His lips were slightly wet and puffy, it was a bit distracting. I nodded slowly. He hummed thoughtfully and pulled me into another kiss. I don't know when his hands worked my belt open but he was undoing my pants with hurried movements when I finally caught up to reality.

I stopped his hands, hating myself a little but still trying to do the right thing. "No, Harry-"

"You don't want to?" Harry asked, looking up at me through his lashes. I would think he was being coy if it weren't for the soft tone. Full of doubt and insecurity. He didn't try to remove his hands from mine but his shoulders sagged before I could answer, my mind fuzzed with sudden lust. "I thought you... that we... I hoped..." he broke off and I watched as he furiously chewed his bottom lip and closed his eyes, a pink blush of embarrassment blooming on his face and down his neck. "Idiot," he hissed lowly, obviously chastising himself.

I shook my head and squeezed his hands. "It's really not that, Harry," I finally said, my voice a bit thick. He peeked up at me again, easily recognizing the arousal in my tone. He'd heard it often enough. I was a bit relieved he still knew me so well. It eased the tension from his shoulders and the doubt from his expression. "I just... Harry, not even a few hours ago..." I trailed off, unsure how to continue.

"I know," Harry said softly and leaned up enough to softly kiss me. "But I can't deny I still love you. I'm sorry if I rushed you."

I laughed, I couldn't help it. I lowered our hands and pressed his into the prominent bulge in my pants. "I still love you as well," I said honestly, waiting until his gaze raised up from my crotch. A hot sizzle of lust went through me when I saw his dilated eyes and his tongue sweep across his lips. "I just... it just seems so sudden, no? I'm not at all complaining, though. Fuck, a few hours ago I didn't think you'd ever even _talk_ to me again." Harry wiggled his hands in a bid for freedom and I let them go, unwilling to hold him against his will.

"I know," Harry said again and huffed softly. His hands smoothed along my shirt, his fingers toying with the tiny buttons. "I'm probably being a complete idiot but I can't help it." He looked up at me, eyes wide and earnest. "I... I've missed you so damned much," he whispered and dropped his head onto my chest again. I hummed in agreement and wrapped my arms around him again, again relieved he didn't wriggle away. Again, I just held him, but feeling a bit of a pervert doing so with my pants still open. "Would it be a terrible mistake if we tried again?" he muttered into my shirt.

I went still, still enough to make him stiffen and look up, the doubt back in his eyes. "No," I breathed. "I... I'd love that. I don't know if I deserve a second chance," I murmured, cursing myself even as I spoke. It was true, I did love him, but I didn't want to jump at the chance merely for my own selfish wants.

"You do," Harry said firmly. He hummed and nuzzled into my chest. "Just the fact that you'd say that... well, I think you do." He pulled back and gave me an intense look, making my toes want to curl in my shoes. "We'd start completely over, you understand." I nodded. I completely understood and agreed. "We're doing normal couple things," he said, an eyebrow going up. "Meeting each other friends and all that."

I laughed. "If you really insist on meeting Pansy and Blaise, I won't stop you. You'll see why I resisted..." I nearly bit my tongue at the horrible attempt at a joke, but he just grinned up at me and I know I grinned back, stupidly happy. His eyes did that mischievous twinkle again and before I could ask about it, he was on his knees with my pants down and his tongue urging me to full hardness with uncanny speed.

So, like I said, I never expected to be in this position; leaning against a wall, coming down Harry's throat and muttering endearments and filthy things as he arched and shuddered against my legs as he came, too. I vaguely wondered if he was going to have to pay extra to get spunk out of a Muggle suit and found myself not caring as I slid bonelessly down the wall, pulling Harry against me. "Have you been practicing?" I know it was the wrong thing to say, but I couldn't censor myself, my brain still wonderfully liquidized from orgasm. I didn't want to envision any of Ryan near or inside Harry, even knowing it didn't happen didn't help.

Harry giggled, his own orgasm making him giddy and I sighed with relief. "No," he said and giggled again, burrowing into my chest as he settled himself more comfortably on my lap. My arse was freezing and already starting to go numb but I wasn't going to move. No way was I risking it. "I nearly gagged at first but... fuck, I missed that, too," he said softly, sighing with pleasure and kissing my neck softly a few times. He leaned up after a moment and looked up at me with wide eyes. "I can't believe I just did that," he whispered and looked around, a bit horrified, at the still deserted alcove. Neither of us had cast any kind of privacy wards and it was a bit embarrassing to realize that we could have been heard or seen at any time.

"You did," I said brilliantly. I snorted a laugh and buried my nose in Harry's hair again, inhaling deeply and savoring the slightly muskier scent. Gods, he smelled even more amazing all sexed out. He held him tightly, murmured a 'hold on' and apparated him into my room. He yelped and flailed a bit before settling down, slowly recognizing the room he was in. I waited for his reaction.

Harry looked around, stunned. He'd only been to the Manor twice and each time I had shepherded him through the halls so quickly he rarely saw anything but pale blurs as the marble zoomed past and we'd apparated out as quickly as possible when I retrieved whatever I'd come for. He slowly untangled himself from me and looked around. "Why?" he asked, turning to look at me with a stunned expression on his face.

"I live here... Again. And well..." I shrugged uncomfortably. "I wanted you to see it." It would take awhile, but I fully intended on giving him a tour of the Manor, or at least as much as he wanted to see before he got tired of walking.

Harry nodded, swallowing thickly, his Adam's apple bobbing quickly. I blinked, the urge to nibble was strong. I was a bit taken by surprise how much I wanted to say 'fuck the tour', lock my door and pull him closer, nibbling and licking until he was a quivering mess on my bed. He checked the time on a Muggle watch strapped to his wrist and chuckled weakly. "It's only 9 pm."

"I know. Mum's up still..." I said and flushed. He'd always wanted him to meet my mother but I always found an excuse not to make it happen. Harry, naturally, thought it was because he wasn't good enough -which was insane. It was part knowing she'd adore him and become attached -I love my mother, but I'd be forced into more frequent visits if that happened and I refused to allow that. Mostly, it was because I knew my mother would've insisted I stop being a baby and marry the man. At the time, it filled with me fear, panic and enough happiness to scare the shit out of me. Now, I'd be thrilled to marry him but I'll settle for a date at the moment. "She'll probably be in the main parlor having tea..." Harry gaped before snapping his mouth closed and rushing at me again.

Harry flung himself at me and smacked me. Hard. He ignored my scowl and indignant howl of pain. "I'm _not_ meeting your mum!" he hissed. Before I could react, probably with a lot of self-violence for being so stupid or at him for saying 'no', he continued. His hand swept over his stained trousers and a light blush stained his cheeks. "I can't go in there like _this_, you prat!"

"Oh," I said dumbly and laughed with delight and relief. "You can borrow something."

Harry blinked before a slow smile spread across his lips and he rubbed the spot he smacked earlier, his fingers soothing the no longer stinging area. I wasn't going to tell him it didn't hurt anymore; that would be stupid. "Sorry," he murmured. I nodded my forgiveness and set out to find a pair of pants, ones I wouldn't mind him altering to fit his smaller body. I tried not to focus too much on the thought of him wearing my clothes, though. We'd never leave the room.


End file.
